Not Gone
by GaleLeahy
Summary: "No, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone." Klaine. Total angst. I'm sorry. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


**A/N:**

***nervous laugher***

**Hi. So, I'm Gale, and I'll be your author for this fanfiction. I've never written for Klaine before, so don't hate me if I screw things up epically. I'm not sure if I'll continue, but for now this is a little one-shot I decided to write. Little disclaimer for you: contrary to popular belief (well, uh, MY belief), I do not own Glee. Only the odd song and a sheet music book. Anyway, please feel free to review - good or bad - and I hope you enjoy!**

"Hey Kurt, can you turn on the television? We're supposed to be on the news." Finn yelled from the other room as Kurt angrily turned off Tyra.

"For what?" Kurt asked, flipping it over to the news.

"We did a little work for Trevor Project when you were off in London with that study thing." Finn explained as he tumbled on the couch next to Kurt, flipping his hand in a casual it-was-nothing manner.

"A group of local Lima teens have made a huge impact in their community, but before that we go on location of a crash with reporter Maine Williams." The anchor reported, much to Finn's dismay.

"Thank you, Rob. I'm here on scene of one of the worst car wrecks Lima, Ohio has seen in a while. The accident happened early this morning and is believed to be a hate crime. Nineteen year old Blaine Anderson was driving towards his home when a car reportedly swerved into the driver side, killing Anderson almost immediately. Witnesses of the crash promptly recorded the licence plate of the offender, who officials have recently released as Noah Puckerman's vehicle. Investigators are still looking into the incident, but officials have confirmed that Noah Puckerman was not involved. This has been Maine Williams, reporting for Lima News. Back to you, Rob."

The last scene was that of Blaine's ruined car, blood soaking the seats that Kurt had once occupied. Finn glanced over to Kurt, who was staring blankly at the television.

"K-Kurt?" Finn asked timidly, reaching his hand out to shake Kurt's shoulder.

"They're lying," Kurt whispered to himself, "Blaine isn't dead. They're lying."

"Kurt," Finn pleaded as Kurt jumped up, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

"I've got to see him, Finn. I've got to know they're lying!" Kurt yelled, shaking Finn's hand off of his shoulder. Finn recoiled almost instantly and looked down at Kurt with pity.

"Okay," Finn finally said, watching as Kurt ran out of the house.

Later, Kurt would struggle to remember the car ride to Blaine's home. As he sped down the roads of Lima to Westerville, Kurt was not thinking of obeying traffic laws. All Kurt could think is _not him_.

Kurt pulled into the familiar driveway of the Anderson residence, his heart sinking as he noticed Blaine's car was not in the driveway. Regardless, Kurt jumped out of his car and ran to the front door, knocking with all the power he could muster. He heard footsteps echo through the house before the door slowly creaked open. Behind the door held Blaine's younger sister Annabelle, holding a weak composure. At the sight of Kurt, her expression completely changed; tears began forming in her eyes as she looked at him, breathing heavily and searching her for the answer he needed. Her gaze met his and the atmosphere changed; Kurt knew.

Blaine was dead.

"No," Kurt chocked out, his hand covering his mouth as tears began to trickle in his eyes.

"Kurt," Annabelle managed to say between sobs, both of her hands covering her mouth and nose as she took in short, shaky breathes.

They both stood there for what seemed like forever, watching each other cry. But to them, it seemed only seconds. For all days after this, life went by in seconds for Kurt. After the long silence the two shared, Annabelle slipped her hand into Kurt's and lead him up the staircase that colored the dark, dreary house.

Annabelle lead him across the second floor, her gaze concentrated on the floor.

"Do you?" Annabelle questioned, not meeting Kurt's eyes.

Kurt didn't respond, he only opened the door slowly, taking in the flash of Blaine's scent that enveloped the two mourners.

The room screamed Blaine Everett Anderson; Harry Potter posters stood side-by-side with Katy Perry and musical posters. Books were scattered across the floor, along with notebooks and pens. The bedding was rumpled, almost as if Blaine had just stumbled out of bed. Kurt half expected him to walk through the doorway and start talking to the two. Annabelle walked softly over to Blaine's desk, picking up a letter gingerly and tracing her fingers across the fold.

"He loves you, Kurt. He told me so, just the other night." Annabelle whispered, scared to break the comfort that Blaine's room gave him.

"He loved me," Kurt corrected, tears pouring over his eyes.

"He _loves _you, Kurt. When I'm in this room, I _feel _him here." Annabelle explained, biting her lower lip.

Kurt stood rooted in place, staring at Annabelle with a certain intensity that neither were sure of. She twisted a strand of her curly brown hair around her finger, her eyes - _Blaine's eyes _- meeting his gaze uncertainly. He wanted to say he understood, that she wasn't alone. But he couldn't.

And then he felt it. It was very quick; he almost wasn't sure it was real. But there was a soft pressure on his shoulder, a tickle on his ear. Kurt's eyes snapped shut, savoring the sensation as his hand crept up to his shoulder. Annabelle exhaled sharply, a smile gracing her face as she mirrored Kurt, feeling the same thing he did.

"Kurt," A voice Kurt had become reliant on whispered in his ear quietly.

"B-Blaine," Kurt stuttered, eyes squeezed even further shut.

A finger lightly traced the outline of his lips, causing tears to flow down Kurt's face.

"Don't cry, angel. It's not a good look for you." Blaine's voice whispered around him, causing Annabelle to give a short laugh.

"B-Blaine, please don't leave me." Kurt sobbed, his grasp on his shoulder tightening.

"I'll never leave you, darling. I love you," Blaine's voice rebounded across the walls of the small room before a slight wind seemed to push through the room, leaving the two figures alone once more.

Kurt's eyes slowly flickered open, staring into the teary ones of Annabelle.

"He's gone," Annabelle stated, tears flowing down her face. Kurt immediately took Annabelle into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. They stood there, enveloped in what was left of Blaine.

Kurt lived a very long life. He met many, _many _men, but never settled down. He devoted himself to work; Vogue didn't happen on its own, after all. Kurt never forgot Blaine, and Blaine never left him. Sure, he wasn't physically there. Blaine didn't walk through the door as Kurt cooked dinner. But Kurt felt him there; he felt Blaine's presence protect him as he lived life.

That was enough.

**A/N:**

**I'm sorry. That sort of wasn't too good. Please review, though! I'd appreciate it.**

**-Gale A.**


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